Winter, Korea, 1951
by Duh-hhh
Summary: AU. In the Korean War, they met. "Can you speak English?" Emma said in panting, already regretting not killing this woman at first sight. "I'm asking you! Can you speak English!" "да." The brunette's voice was low and deep. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republic's notorious hammer and sickle was shinning on the black military jacket. "I mean, Yes."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N :** I don't intend to offend nor insult anyone. If you feel that way, I'm really, really sorry.

**Warring :** violence, character death, murder, bad word, sorta.

* * *

The crazy blast hits the side of the house. It robs them of the last straw of peace in silence. Like wolf howl sounds make Emma deaf for a moment. She desperately wishes it's just the ear-piercing wind, not a real wolf. Otherwise she might as well starts making her own grave.

Emma shudders in big cargo pants and military jacket that once her friend's, who now dead and abandoned in the middle of foreign country. Staring off the darkness of the outside, she strokes four dog-tags in the pocket, one by one. And hopes against hope that it'll stay four, not five.

A low, cool voice pulls Emma out of her thought. "I think,"

"Shut up," Emma barks out. The cool metal of handgun feels like an ice. It makes her fingers tremble and go numb. Emma clenches her jaw and tightens her grab.

She doesn't know what the other woman is thinking, and doesn't want to know. This woman should remain to Emma as a murderer, or a killer of her friends.

"Shut the fuck up,"

* * *

**Winter, Korea, 1951**

* * *

_If you love something, let it go. If it returns to you. it is yours. If it does not, it never was._

_- Chinese proverb_

* * *

The day was such a beautiful one. The sky was clean for the first time in weeks, air was fresh without the smell of gunpowder, and wind was soft. Emma had smile on her face as bouncing down the path between green barracks.

"Oi, Cassidy!"

Half naked man jumped in the air and fell down on the mattress, struggling with his pants. "Jesus, Swan!" August barked out in embarrassment but Emma and the other man just laughed.

"Sorry, Booth." Emma said in non-sorry-at-all tone, and added, "Where is Cassidy?"

"Ah, here is poor girl. You know Neal Cassidy is already taken-"

Emma rolled her eyes at Leroy. "Please, His fiancé returned the word."

She waved a paper in the air, and it made two men stood up in a flash, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. They looked like teenage boys again.

"Yeah? What did she say? is it yes? is it?"

"No, It can't be. Oh my God, it isn't yes, right?"

"Uh-uh, I have to tell him first. Military discipline, you know?" But her grin was telling everything.

"Christ, She actually said yes!" Leroy gaped, "She was completely out of min, wasn't she? There is no way to accept that!"

Emma laughed, "Thought it was you who encouraged him to propose."

"Sweet Jesus, We fucked up an innocent girl's life!" August shrieked. "Oh God, oh fuck."

When you're the only woman in packs of tough men who haven't seen a single woman for months, you'd better be worried yourself. But if you're the only one in miles who can read the Morse and decipher the military code without miss, you can find yourself treated like a princess. Besides, she was messenger, too. Emma Swan, a little brat of Storybrooke, was an angel in here helping homesick soldiers keep in touch with their family.

"What is going on here?" As if their words had summoned him, Neal appeared from a small bathroom, having shaving cream on his jaw. "Er, Leroy. How many I tell you stop playing card in my room-" His eyes widened when he saw Emma.

Emma smiled. "Hey, Taken man," and handed over the telegram. "Seems you'll need a ring."

They laughed when Neal actually showed a tear, and laughed harder when he hugged Emma.

"Shit, Neal!" Emma growled as wiping the cream off of her cheek. "Thank you for such a sharing. You know I don't need to cut, right?" But she grinned when Neal sniffed. He rolled his red eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

They pulled Dr. Whale out from the clinic, hijacked Killian on the way of returning to the UK camp and headed to the nearby woods. It was 3 minutes distance, away enough to hide having little secret party and close enough to return quickly if someone started seeking them.

They'd well fucked up if their senior found out Jack and Jill, but hey, it was not like they got drunken dead or so. They just needed 20 minutes for a bottle to cheer and relax.

"Hey, soon to be a groom man," Dr. Whale nudged Neal, "You don't have syphilis or gonorrhea, right? If you do, I can help you."

"I even don't know what that is," Neal took a sip from the bottle, and almost choked when Dr. added, "Geez, sexual disease I mean."

"Fuck, Doc!" Everyone laughed. "Of course I don't! I've never had since I left her-" and laughed their head off when Neal blushed furiously.

"God, it's getting cold." Killian shivered as getting the fire on his cigarette with his uninjured hand.

"I think it's supposed to be cold in October," Emma said and took a cigarette that he offered.

"October, really? Jesus fucking Christ, I've been here for over a year." Leroy grumbled.

Emma offered him the drink. "Hang in there. Sooner we're going to go back home. They're having the negotiation, remember?"

"Oh right, Do you think it'd work?"

"Yeah. I mean, it has been three month already and I never heard about a single battle for two weeks." Emma shrugged.

Dr. Whale let out a great sigh. "Thank God, I'm really sick of dying bros." He brushed off the dust of his military jacket and added, more playfully. "It was good fortune for me to be moved on here. I've got used to give you guys aspirin or peptic, I don't think I'd be able to handle with actually sick people again."

Neal smirked. " It's kind of weird, you know. I always look forward to returning, and now when the time comes, It's... I mean- God, Don't know what I'm feeling."

"I know," August said, "I'll miss here, too."

Seconds of silence.

"Oh right, I'll miss the lack of modernity in this goddamn country." Leroy snorted.

"And lack of English." Neal said, and Killian took the word. "And lack of English,"

"lack of electricity. I mean, seriously."

"lack of hot water,"

"lack of women!" Leroy exclaimed, and quickly added, "No offense, Swan."

"Nah, none taken," Emma waved her hand as smirked.

And they had good time to relax. Neal made them laugh to cry, telling when Leroy had to fight with a Chinese while he wore nothing but socks, "Sweet Jesus, I still well remember the horror on his face when Leroy wrapped the brat's neck with his leg." and August made them roll over the ground by insist on he was inspired.

It was when they managed to breathe again that there was the distant sound of plane. Killian raised an eyebrow. "Hey American, do you have any plan of getting planes? 'Cause I didn't hear anything about that."

"Oh, yeah. We'll get supplies and stuffs from that." Emma stood up, and frowned. "Thought it was 16:00. Is it already?"

August checked his watch. "No, It's 15:30 yet."

Neal shrugged. "They may change the plan. Anyway it's time to return, guys. Come on, move the heavy ass, you bastards." and headed to the camp, hand around Leroy's shoulder.

Well, that was weird. Army was not a place changing the plan without previous notice, especially during the war. Might be the cease-fire negotiation made them a little bit loose, too.

"Wait," August stopped her from return. Emma blinked. "Listen." The can't-misinterpreting whinnying sound was getting closer. Too much closer, in fact, It sounded like they were just about to come here, which couldn't be. A transport plane was really fast, of course, but it wasn't fast as this. And it was-

"It's coming from the north." His eyes got enormous. So did hers. "Jesus, It's coming from the north, Cassidy! It's not our plane! It's their jet!"

Neal and Leroy were already at the nearby camp. They turned around a little playfully, like always, and opened the mouth as if they was gonna make a joke or stuck the tongue. It was then the notorious silver jet aircraft of Soviet flied over their head.

There were fires.

They shook and jerked. The two men seemed to have a frantic dance like once they did, when they were drunk dead, only this time was much awkward and wired. Then they fell down in oddly slow motion, head first. It was kind of ludicrous, really. Emma thought she could laugh her head off.

Emma screamed.

"Get down! Get down!" Somebody tackled her, making all the air push out of the lungs. It was Killian grabbing his helmet and putting it on her head. "Hold still down, Swan!" Emma wanted to say thank you, but what came out of her mouth was, "huh,ahgg-" a shaking sob.

Their camp jerked awake in alarm from the usual languid peace. Soldiers got out of his barracks in confusion or terror and dropped dead under the fire. Some of them shot back, but hitting the jet with a rifle was more impossible than surviving under the bullet, and soon those brave idiots were getting fall down.

The bullet shower kept going on like eternity until turned into the bomb rain. The ground jumped up and shattered down like a blooming flower. Emma grabbed her helmet for a dear life and screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more.

It ended, eventually. Even the horrible sound stopped about 10 minutes before, Emma still lay on her stomach, one hundred percent sure that she was dead. Out of her ringing ears there were whispers, words and soon footsteps. Then Emma realized, miraculously, that she was still alive. But she couldn't find enough courage to raise the head and see what was going on.

Next to her Killian grabbed her stony-tensed shoulder and said, his voice was trembling as well as his hand. "Swan, They are going to check it out." Then they spent the good time of lying there at the middle of woods, praying like hell for their friend's safety.

What felt like whole five years after they returned in one piece, thank God, with despair on the face, "No one is alive." Dr. Whale said. He had the tear path on his dirty cheeks.

Next 10 minutes were vague. Emma had worn her ivory blouse and indigo blue skirts that morning, because that was her uniform and she couldn't against the military rule for small comfort, and somehow she found herself in the military uniform.

A big hand grabbed her forearm and pulled her out of her misery. "Swan," It was August. "We have to move to the UK camp, It's not safe here. Killian is gonna lead us. Do you think you can follow us?"

Emma nodded dumbly, not knowing what he said at all. She was having a hard time standing correctly.

"Good, Let's get out of here then, sis."

That, the familiar little smile on his face, made her say, "Yeah, get the fuck out of here."

The next 5 hours felt like the hell itself. They walked through the endless woods, climbed two mountains, crossed a stream, and passed another mountain. Because they didn't know the official route was safe and decided to bypass that. Thank God Emma was used to walking in boots. They were eagerly ready to collapse when Killian exclaimed in joy, "Over here, right this-"

He halted, and got still. Emma would know why when she stood next to him.

The UK camp, as small and peaceful as their one, was not there. Only remained stuff was telling that once here was the camp.

"Here, they were here-" He sounded strained, "When I leave, they were bloody here..." and trailed off.

Depression sank into them. It was their hope and here they were, lost and abandoned. Emma wondered if she was gonna cry again, and relieved her tears were run out already.

August said they had to sleep for next day and they laid themselves in thin blanket. It was October, almost November, which meant it was fucking freezing to sleep at outside, so instead Emma stared at the back of August being first night-watch and tried not to think anything.

She couldn't think anything but why. Why did the fucking Soviet attack them? Their camp was nothing. Yeah, they were kind of close to the North, but they weren't at the front line nor nearby Seoul -the capital- or heck, the nearest city or village was thousand miles away of there. The reason of their existence was just be there, holding the line. Most of them were inexperience soldiers like Neal, or having mental problem like Dr. Whale, or injured one like Killian. There was not a single fucking importance of them. They were not even a combat troop, didn't have any battle for nearly six months and that the reason Emma, who was a non-combat soldier, in fact, not even a soldier but a volunteer cipher officer was there. Above all, USA and Soviet Union were at middle of the cease-fire negotiation; what the fuck happened about that? Emma heard it was going smoothly but now she didn't think so.

"You are thinking, I can hear your head spinning,"

August turned to her. It was over 23:00 and the cloud blocked the moon in sky, his face was barely visible in darkness.

"I'm wondering why the heck they did." Emma responded.

He shrugged, "Never know." And added, more seriously. "Hey, I know you volunteers don't have combat training but Swan, do you know how to use gun? I mean, at least a pistol."

Emma nodded. "Yeah, Dad taught me once."

"A daughter of the sheriff, huh?" He smiled. "I'm sure he was good man."

"He was,"

"Well, good for you. Here," He unwrapped his holster and offered her it. "You can't be captured."

Emma sat up and toke it. The handgun was very hard and cold under her fingers. "Damn right."

"No, Swan. You don't understand. You've taken and sent all the coding craps, dealing with plenty of information that they are dying for, and, you know, you're woman." Her eyes widened in realization what he insinuated. "There are many possibility that something.. happen to you if they catch you. So, you can't be. Do you get what I mean?"

Emma nodded numbly. His voice went soft as he saw the shock on her face. "Hey, sis. Don't worry. I won't let that's gonna happen. You trust me, right?" August gave her a squeeze in the hand, before patted her shoulder. "Go sleep, girl. It's late."

Emma did as told. It was good for her she was too exhausted, otherwise she couldn't have a single wink.

* * *

**Please let me know what do you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warring :** **violence, character death, murder, bad word, sorta.**

* * *

Next day was as painful as the day before. August got a map from their camp. It was not marked of course, for fucking security's sake, but Emma managed to remember where the lieutenant pointed when he ordered her to send a coded letter.

"How far it is?" Killian asked.

"It's 25 miles. If I correct," Emma replied. Her feet were practically burning in such long work.

"Holy shit," August heaved.

So they walked, and walked, and walked. They had breakfast and lunch with chocolate-bar that they got from the remained of their camp, and kept walking. This goddamn woods, forest, and mountains. Emma hated all of it. It was 17:00. Right 24 hours ago they were laughing and joking to each other. It felt like a formal life.

"Oof," Killian stumbled on a root. Since they were walking with dragging feet, so they kept tripping over something every five minutes. But they couldn't help their body. It was a miracle that they could still walk.

"Bloody hell," Killian muttered. When you walk for straight twelve hours with a rifle and bullets and stuff that feel like tons of iron, you couldn't in your usual playful mood anymore.

"I'm sorry, Jones," Emma blurted. "If I haven't keep you from return, you might not suffer like this.." Her lips wobbled.

"Nah, Love, Don't be silly. If you didn't, I'm damn well lying on the ground in dead now. You saved my life." Killian waved his hand. Emma had tried to imagine what it feel like if she had to cut off her own finger, and every time the mere thought made her shuddered.

Dr. Whale joined in, "You must not blame yourself, Swan. It was not your fault." It was the first time he opened his mouth after the appalling search for survivors in corpses. "Sometimes things just happen. We can't help it."

"Yeah," Emma sniffed.

Seconds after, Killian tried to light mood. "Hey, See the good part of it. This can be the chance to you. You know, if you tell your friends that you just sat on the table and dealt with the paper craps all the time, it won't sound quite heroic. huh?"

Emma managed to let out a chuckle. "Yeah, I think that'll sound pretty funny."

"Bloody right. If you want to be a deputy as once you said, you have to become a man or have a goddamnly awesome bullet scar or two."

"Uw, Can I avoid the painful part? That seemed fucking hurt."

"Help her, Doc," August said, "You can make a fake scar on her body, right?"

Dr. Whale nodded. "Yeah, I've seen plenty of bullet wounds, I'm sure I can imitate well." Then he added, deadpan. "All you have to do is just take off your clothes and lay down on my desk- Ouch, Okay, just show me your breast. It's final offer- Uw! That's really hurt, Swan!"

They laughed. It was small and kinda forced, but it felt damn good. God knew that they needed to be refreshed. "What will you do when you get home? I'm gonna eat all the cheeseburger in USA."

"I'm gonna go to the strip club. I mean, straightly."

"Oh God, here we are. Talking about strip club and naked girls with boobs, again. Booth, change the subject, plez."

"Don't know. I- think I'd go to church in my town. One of my mutual friends is a nun."

"A nun? Fuck, Geez!"

"Gross, seriously!"

"What? It's not like that, it's just innocent friend visit!"

"Yeah, in twisted, dirty, ugly way of. Love, don't you think It was much better when we're talking about lovely ladies in tiny clothes? I mean- Ohhff!"

This time Killian actually fell down. Emma reached out her hand as laughing, and leaned over when he moaned. "Jeez, are you hu-?"

In a flash, Killian grabbed her hand and yanked it, and, when Emma tripped on him, something brushed her hair and passed away. A cold, hard, and small thing that made all the hair of her neck stood up at second.

Before Emma could even say what the fuck, Killian covered her mouth with his hand which is remaining only three fingers after the fight with Chinese, and then she felt the moisture on it.

It was blood.

"Hey wh,hu-h-"

Dr. Whale finished up his word with a faint gasp, and collapsed over her. He made a gruff sound, it sounded very much unlike him, and jerked twice, let out a shaky breath an then relaxed his body, fully.

Ah, the feeling of your friend's blood streamed down your back while his dead body was limp on you.

Emma went very, very still.

"No, love. Don't scream." Killian whispered. "It's sniper. He is using the soundproof."

August had walked ahead of them so it took minutes to him turn around.

"Um? Why don't you- Fuck!"

It sounded he shot, too, judging by the falling sound. To Emma's utter relieve, there was more.

"Fuck! Ew- shit!"

"He's alive. He's moving behind the tree to hide." Killian noted as noticing her anxiety. His breath was rapid and he sounded uneasy. Emma stared at him in the eyes, captured in terror.

"Listen to me Love, listen." He swallowed. "They will be here soon. It's not a mistake that they shot Booth by the leg. They purposely shot his leg because they want to hear some information from him. They'll come here to take him, and that'll be your chance. Do you understand?"

Emma tried to shake her head. She really didn't know what was going on. But she couldn't move even a finger under the feeling of blood dripping down her body.

"No no, Don't move. Pretend you're shot. Can you do that? Good. Good girl. You're always good girl. I'm sorry sometimes I acted like asshole. I didn't mean it, you know?" Killian said apologetic. "Don't cry."

Emma squeezed tears out of her eyes so that she could look at her friend closely. His face was pale. Too pale, in fact. And he started making sound; like he had a problem of breathing. "Stop talking, Jones." She pleaded.

"No no, I'm okay." He swallowed and smiled. He always had a great smile. "You're gonna kick the bloody Soviets' ass and save me, right? I'm gonna move in hospital and I'll complain about everything all the time until I'll return to home. You ask what I do when I return, Hm? Strip club is not my real answer. I'll straight go home. My bloody old, dirty, and small home that I love the most. Not much manly, huh?"

At somewhere August asked that someone was alive. They didn't answer.

"You know how to use a gun. Have you ever shot someone?" He was obviously panting now, Emma didn't like that at all.

"N-no. I mean, Dad and I used to have deer hunting in fall but I never shot people."

"That's okay. It's not that different. Straighten your arm and take good aim before pull the trigger. Can you do that?"

"I don't think I can do that, Jones." Where were all confidence when she need the most? The red spot on his chest went far too bigger than she like. "Stop talking please.." more tears coming out.

"Of course you can. Swan, I know you can." Killian ignored her plead. "Love, do you want to know what made me cut off my fingers? Hmm? I've noticed your glance on my hand. Yep, too handsome to take off eyes, that's me." He huffed a weak chuckle. Emma didn't know how Killian made a joke in this situation. "I cut my bloody awesome fingers to save myself. Nothing is special, yeah. Are you disappointed? Sorry. That was live-or-dead, Love. Kill or be killed. And I was very much willing to live with lack of fingers, Emma."

He never called her first name before. Emma thought she'd like it very much if it was louder. He sounded barely audible now. "Go on, girl. Save yourself and be the fucking bad-ass sheriff. And bloody hell please make up with your mom. For me, 'kay? Good, they're coming here. Be ready.." and then he closed his eyes and went silent.

All her sensation exploded. The world was getting narrow and compacted while spread and expanded. She couldn't listen anything but the pounding heart on her throat, at the same time heard everything. Sandwiched between her dead boys, having Dr. Whale's warm blood on her back and Killian's on her hand, Emma waited.

She didn't need to wait long. Soon there were footsteps getting closer, it sounded more than one man. Perhaps two? At most three. They were talking to each other, their feet was light and careless. Be triumphant in victory, already? Fuck you.

Someone barked out in strange language, and Emma heard something before August said he was unarmed. Footsteps were getting closer to them more. Now she knew it was three men. One of them was approaching to her while the others headed toward August. Emma hold her breath in prepare.

The tip of rifle rummaged Dr. Whale's body for a while before touched her head. It was not cold, unexpectedly, it was very hot. Probably shooting bullets heated it.

"что это такое?" The Soviets sounded surprised. Emma panicked briefly, before realized that it was her hair. Which was too long for a soldier, who should be a man. Usually well pinned and tugged behind the head her long golden curls were now pulled out from its bun and covered her face like the curtain. Her helmet had flied somewhere when she fell down on Killian. The man said something, and tried to push her hair aside with the rifle.

See, you can easily avoid the bullet when the gun is close enough. What an irony. A tiny move can help you out from the aim.

The moment the dead point of the rifle moved from her skull, Emma whirled around and punched the rifle aside with her left hand, making the man lose his balance by the sudden blow, and her right hand pulled the trigger of the handgun.

The gun fire sounded like it could tear the night.

The Soviets opened his mouth, and suddenly a red river appeared from his eyes and streamed down to his right cheek. Some blood spattered her face, it was fucking hot like hell.

Emma didn't waste a single moment to do next. Instead she sat up quickly as the man collapsed on the ground. The rest of Soviets were about to turn at her. _Straightened your arms_, Emma did as once her Dad said, somehow it sounded Killian's voice, _made sure the target get in the aim._ She pointed the gun at the man near August. It was too bad for him that the sniper rifle was far too big and heavy to react instantly. Emma could see the panic and terror in his figure as he struggled to lift the rifle, and before she could think further, shot him. Three times, just in case. The man jerked by each shot, and then made a faint sound as fell down. The blood started pouring hysterically.

She just killed two men. Emma was kinda astonished how not-freak-out she was. It didn't felt real, in fact, at all. What she could think was;_ hey, look. I'm doing pretty well here_. Killian could proud of her. Except he couldn't, because he was dead now, of course.

Feeling like in an awfully realistic dream, she turn to the last man. He seemed freezing dead on his spot in shock. Emma let out a dry laugh, and pulled the trigger. _Say to the world Good bye, dumb-ass._

As a result of being half-out of her mind, Emma couldn't catch up quickly when the trigger didn't move over half. She tried two times more, even made "Um?" sound, then the realization hit her.

It stuck.

Fuck the armament factory and fuck the army and August Booth who gave her a fucking defective gun!

The man noticed it, of course. He fumbled around his belt with shaking hand and started struggling to untie his holster.

Was it because this was her end that the whole thing stared passing so slowly? Adrenalin ran over her. Pushing the dead men body aside, Emma stood up and sprinted to the man. Hoping she wasn't directly rushing at her dead, Emma jumped toward the man just in time when he managed to grab his gun and about to lift it.

Gun fire pierced her left ear. They fell down on the ground and rolled over together, yanking and pulling his holding the gun. The man kicked her shin and punched her stomach with elbow. Emma yelped, but didn't give up and repaid such kind treatments by biting his hand, hard. Thank you very much you son of a-

He screamed in agony, and released the grip.

Later, Emma thought it was such a huge fucking mistake but then, she wanted to know like hell who the fuck just killed his friends. Emma stood up with the gun in her hand, kicked his head, making the helmet flying, and surprised when he turned his bloody face. Well, her face.

Her hair was short, black, and falling over her face like veil, Lips full and eyes really dark just like the night sky above their head. It was sparkling in fear and malice and hundreds other feelings. Emma felt herself sucked in those eyes.

"Can you speak English?" Emma said between panting, already regretting not killing this woman at first sight. What was she doing? This woman killed her friends just minutes ago! Shoot her! Kill her!

Emma didn't shot her, tough she barked out, outraged, "Fuck, I'm asking you! Can you speak English!" August was hurt in the leg. He couldn't walk without help. He needed help. They needed help.

"да," The woman said, her voice was low and deep. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republic's notorious hammer and sickle was shining on the collar of dark uniform. "I mean, Yes."

* * *

**Please let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

David Nolan was good man. The reliable sheriff of her town Storybrooke, sweet husband, cute brother, faithful friend, and to Emma, he was the coolest daddy in the world.

He was man who ready to laugh, had very easy smile, goofy-grin, sorta. So one day her daddy came home with a tired face, and didn't smile even when Emma gave him a hug, she was very surprised. He acted weird all that day. Kept silent during the dinner, skipped dessert and went to the bedroom earlier than Emma.

"Is daddy sick?"

Emma asked when her mom tugged her under the sheet. She said no and kissed her crown, sent little Emma to sleep.

Several days after Emma heard the reason from the whispers at Granny's.

"Daddy, what it feel like beating bad guy?"

That night Emma sitting on her daddy's lap asked him after second book. She was 9 years old then, started thinking the book-reading before sleep was kinda childlike for her, but she liked her dad's voice.

"Beating-? Why are you asking me like that, sweetie?"

"Nah, I'm just curious." Emma shrugged, pretending nonchalant. "You know, you're sheriff, and sheriff beats bad guy up, right? So I've wanted to know about you job, daddy."

Her dad narrowed his eye suspiciously but told her anyway. "Yes, I deal with bad guys." He ruffled her golden hair, and smiled as Emma made giggle sound. "If someone did bad things, then daddy would go and teach him a lesson."

"Oh, like a hero? You must be proud of yourself!" Emma exclaimed in awe, then frowned. Well, that didn't make sense. The lines around his eyes and mouth were saying 'I don't think so!'

"Yes, sweetie. But it's also kinda sad that I have to do that." Then her dad pulled her into bear-hug, and it was so tight that Emma wanted to shrug off, but there was something in his voice so she just let him. The funeral's mourning lingered on his jacket, smelled like a tear.

"It's very, very sad."

* * *

"Why are you rubbing your fingers?"

Emma blinked, coming back to the ground from her childhood memory.

"Sorry?" Then she caught herself, and corrected, putting more authority in her voice, "What?"

The Soviets was sitting on the ground, feet and hand tied up from behind, staring at her straight in the eyes. Emma was still having a problem believing this, a woman? She never heard about female soldier and, in the middle of hostile area? Well, the Soviet was.. Soviet. So anything could happen there, she guessed. And who the fuck could know exactly what was in Stalin's mind? Emma sneered.

The Soviets raised one eyebrow. "Have you been elsewhere when I said? You keep fiddling your finger. It's irritating me, stop that."

This woman had no sense of what the circumstance she was in, or just wanted to be died, right now.

"Shut up," Emma growled at her and closed her mouth, rubbing her fingers once more. The skin of her fingertip was getting break out from incessant rubbing and scratching, but the tickling feeling on it didn't go away. It felt like she was still having her hand on the gun. Emma gritted her teeth. _Don't think, focus what to do. Don't think._

She took another bite of chocolate bar with huff. It was a late breakfast, the sun was already over her head. She ran her hand around her sore eyes in tired. Searching for safe place to sleep the day before was such a nightmare. Lying down somewhere and closing the eyes hadn't been in the cards. They had stood at the middle of mountain, where ground was wet and dirty, and full of bugs and stuff, which was never good for August's injury. Besides, there were beasts in the woods which could easily smell the blood of his leg.

The worst scenario she had thought was, of course, there were another Soviets soldiers nearby. The search party was normally one or two, so it was quite possible that they ran into them, again. The first time was such a miracle, Emma killing two professional killer with a defective gun. She was sure that next time she won't be so lucky.

"It'll fade away. Always the first is the hardest."

Taking another bite, Emma peeked out of cave and looked around closely. "I think I said shut up, like, just second ago." Nothing was different from last night, but who knew? It seemed Soviets' favorite hobby was blow-your-gut-out-of-nowhere, apparently. "And I have no idea what you're talking about,"

"Killing people, what else?"

"What?" Emma gaped at the Soviets, forgetting the pretense of disinterest.

The brunette pointed at Emma's hand with her chin. "You're recalling last night, aren't you? It feels like the gun is still in the hand, that's why you keep rubbing your hands like a fly. It'll fade eventually and you're going to get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to," As soon as the words slipped out of her mouth, Emma wanted to punch herself in the face. How naive it sounded.

The Soviets tilted her head aside and smirked. "You're an amateur. I didn't know our top of units would be ended by a girl's clumsy hands. Apparently the world is full of unpredictable things, isn't it?"

Emma blinked again, stunned by the sudden blow. She didn't expect such a dare attitude from the Soviets. Was she supposed to be more obedient than this? Or was it natural that a prisoner maintained defiant manner against its enemy? All the things were totally new territory to Emma since yesterday.

She decided to do as August told her; "Wow. You must feel comfortable right now enough to shoot your mouth off, aren't you? You know, if you have a bullet on your skull or two, you don't feel like that anymore."

The woman's respond was not what August told; snorting. "You should be careful choosing when you threaten people, amateur. It works only when you actually can do it, otherwise it works opposite way. You won't kill me."

"No?"

The woman jerked her head toward August still in his sleep. "If you dismiss me, then who on earth help your friend to walk? I might be nothing but a crutch, yet you're so helpless now that a crutch would be God-bless to you. So, no. You won't, dear."

If the brunette had acted on her knees, Emma have could find her position of upper hand. But this woman took the whole thing with challenging face, and Emma didn't know how to handle this. August didn't expect that the situation would be mess like this.

"Dear," she said numbly, "Where did you learn English? I haven't heard someone saying _dear_ like, ever."

"Oh? Now you're asking me personal question? Whew, you're so capricious. Give me some time to catch up." Then the Soviets stuck her tongue in her cheek and rolled her eyes aside, faking consider. "Hmm, oh! What's your favorite color? Mine is purple." She beamed.

Emma could feel the anger grow up inside her. After all, this Soviets was one of those who make things like this; four dead friends and one injured, over fifty dead body. Emma knelt in front of the Soviets, making their eye level even, wondering it would be just split lips or a broken tooth if she hit this woman by the mouth with the grip of the rifle. It was made of iron, which meant there was pretty big possibility it may be more than one tooth.

Apparently Emma's thoughts were written all over her face, considering by that damn smile on the woman's face fading away.

"Purple? I rather choose yellow." She whispered, never taking her eyes off those dark eyes. Hmm, No. In this proximity, the handgun would be better than the rifle. Her hands fumbled around her waist and it found the gun on her belt. "Do you have any other questions?"

The woman pursed her lips into a thin line, eyes fixing on Emma's hands, which is holding the gun in _holster. When you pull out the gun out of hols__t__er, it should be the time you must use it._ Once did her father say.

"Why, aren't you gonna get along with me anymore?" Emma smirked. "Oh no, you're so funny when you play smart-ass. Come on, open your mouth and keep being sassy." Then she dropped her voice into a growl of command. "Open your mouth, you sucker bitch."

The Soviets shot her eyebrows up to hair line, eyes darkened with furious, clenched her jaw. But she kept her mouth shut. Emma was kinda disappointed. She pulled away her hand from the gun, and rubbed her hands together slowly for show as saying. "Let me make this clear, lady. I have no tolerance for taking bullshit now. Especially from you, who killed my friends."

"That was not me-" The Soviets tried to argue this, but Emma shut her up slamming one hand to her mouth. It made the brunette's head threw back and thunked against the rock. She hissed through her nose in pain, her pulse pounding visibly at her throat while she writhed under Emma's hand.

"Uh-uh, I'm talking now. Don't interrupt when other people is saying." Emma said, sounding like an elementary school teacher imparting etiquette lessons to a bunch of kids. "The funny thing is, sister, I don't care who the fuck actually shot the damn gun. I don't give a shit of that. Your friends did? Then you did. Corporate responsibility, you know? It's pretty common in army."

The Soviets tried to say something but it sounded like 'mmffhh.' She looked so mortified, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Emma felt the muscle of the other woman's jaw strained under her fingers. "So, here is it, I'll give you this for breakfast and you shut the fuck up, deal? Good."

Then she put a chocolate bar into the annoying mouth before untied the woman's hands, and waked August up. She regarded two people during the breakfast in silence. Her hands started tingling again. Emma jammed her hands in irritate.

After breakfast, she gave August what she hoped aspirin or something like that. She had found that from Dr. Whale's pocket last night. "Only two? I think I need at least five," August said, his face still pale and he was sweating a little.

"We have to use this carefully. The last thing we need now is you suffered by side-effect." Emma shook a bottle of pills, smiling apologetic.

The woman didn't say another word during the breakfast. Thank God.

They spent the afternoon kept walking from mountain to mountain, except for lunch and relax.

"Oh hold on, hold on. Fuck..." August stopped the step and sank down. It was third time after the lunch and the term was getting shorter. Emma tried not to think what that meant and smoothed his shoulder.

"Hey, you're doing great."

"I'm getting wonder your definition of great, Swan."

August tried to return a smile and failed painfully. The Soviets laid down August on the near stump and stood aside. As for a woman who carried 6' inches injured man, she panted so hard that Emma wondered if she was having heart attack. The brunette looked ready to collapse, face covered with sweat and eyes half-close in exhausted.

"I want to take a rest." The woman said, huffing and puffing like hell.

Emma gestured around. "Well it seems we're having a rest. Why do you keep standing? Sit down or lie -"

"What I mean is," The brunette took a deep breath through her nose, wiping the sweat off her forehead and glancing at August uncomfortably. "I want _rest_."

Oh, you mean that. The woman threw you-idiot look at Emma, but she was too tired to be offended. "'kay, then. Let's go."

They walked short and stopped in safe distance from August. Emma's step was a little unsure, because she had hardly had a wink last night. She had kept alert just in case something happened, big bad wolf or fucking Soviet soldiers. And whenever she had fallen asleep in spite of herself, the Soviets' face when she shot him appeared behind her eyelid and she waked up with silent scream. Emma kept telling herself that she had done nothing wrong, that she had done right thing, and that she didn't regret. There should be no single room for remorse of shooting those goddamn bastards, but she couldn't herself. She killed people. The fact was practically choking Emma.

"Stop, here. Uh, make it quick."

While watching the woman unbuttoned her uniform pants uncomfortably, (Because Emma was not that stupid to look away or dismiss herself when the Soviets could run away.) Emma fought not to feel like an old pervert. The tall reed was up to around their knees, so she could hardly see what the woman was doing below her lower part. Besides, Emma covered her ears so the brunette could.. pee as much- uh, as like- um.. as whatever as she want. Emma gazed over the brunette's shoulder to give her at least a small privacy, and when she jerked awake from a doze, the Soviets was already there throwing her body to her.

Emma fell down from her seat. They spent good time together of rolling down the steeply slanting heel, scratching and bumping everywhere. Emma yelped when her back was bumped into a sharp rock or two, and cried out when the rifle slid off of her shoulder. She thought they fell down at least ten feet. The rolling down was end, eventually, which meant it was time for a war.

The woman's punch cut the start line; Her fist met Emma's jaw in a loud crack, and made Emma stagger backwards, stunned by the surprising strength behind the blow and the after-effect of rolling down. How could this woman hit me? They could barely stand at all. It felt like suddenly she could be aware that earth is, actually, spinning at the very high speed. Fuck you ground, stop tilting!

Emma managed to gather herself enough to grasp the brunette's wrist just before she was about to give another blow. "No thanks, I'm already full," She smirked and repaid with her best right hook that once Killian confirmed its power. She hadn't done all that shitty things at Storybrooke for girl's fight.

The Soviets head was knocked aside violently, it felt goddamn good but just when Emma smirks, the brunette grabbed her forearms and drove the knee upward to her stomach. Emma gasped, "Oof!" _Oh right, this woman is soldier, a__n__ expert at fight_, and grasped the brunette's thigh and pushed her all weight forward. As for the one who was standing at one foot, the Soviets stumbled backward briefly before lost her balance with the grip on Emma, they fell down together.

Next some minutes were kinda vague. Emma was sure that she wasn't poor at fist-fight, no sir, not at all. But now she found herself having black eyes and bleeding nose with bruised chin while the other woman had swollen cheeks and scratched forehead. Which was totally unfair and Emma felt herself like a terrible loser. But however good this woman at fight, she couldn't get free from the difference of weight. Sitting on top and struggling to pin the brunette down, Emma was proud herself on not giving up all those cheeseburgers despite her Mom's lecture. "Stop-" and ducked just in time when the woman swung a rock to her head.

Goose bumps rose on her forearm at once. "You cheating cunt!" Emma cries out, "You can't-"

"Oh, sorry." The fucking Soviets flashed her fucking perfect white teeth. "Are there rules?" and lunged forward.

As the result of her all attention was on the rock, Emma couldn't avoid the butt of head and squeezed her eyes shut in automatic reaction. The other woman took an advantage of tis to roll over, and then held up the rock.

Fear struck Emma. Before the woman do anything further, Emma grabbed a knife at the inner side of her military jacket and swung it in a fluid motion. The brunette shrieked in pain, dropping the rock and covering her mouth with both hands. The vivid red blood started streaming down between the fingers.

Emma rolled over themselves once again and grasped the other woman's neck with one hand, not too forcefully but with enough firm grasp, putting the knife under her nose.

The woman went still.

"I s-ssiad, s-st'p," Emma managed the word between pant. When you take pretty hard exercise with a bleeding nose, you can't help but pant like a fish out of water. "'on't make me kill you, 'kay?"

The Soviets looked up at her with wide eyes. And, might be it was several knocking on her head, or crazy adrenaline in her blood or hundred other things that happened in two days. Anyway, whatever it was, it made funny things to her brain and without think, Emma leaned over and ran her tongue along the brunette's wound over the lips, lazily. It was so much red, she couldn't resist the temptation.

It tastes blood, of course. "'Cause you were right. I really don't want to kill you. So help me, 'kay?"

The Soviets nodded with stunned look on her face, breath as rapid as Emma's.

They returned a half-hour after since when they left. August was biting his lips nervously, and gasped when he looked their face. "What happened?"

The adrenaline was wearing off, and she was just beginning to notice how much her body screaming in pain. Especially her face, Especially her nose. Jesus, Emma prayed to God that her nose didn't break. "Minor problem." Emma shot a malice glare at the woman, who returned a glare in her eyes.

That night Emma fell asleep as soon as she laid her head on the ground at another cave, and didn't have a single dream.


End file.
